The next morning she went out with her post-office savings bank-book, and telegraphed for a warrant to draw out all the money she had in the world. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. I'm almost sorry your suspicions are unfounded, if your father in any way resembled you, my youngster.
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